The Poor Dog, In Life The Firmest

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods, There Is Rapture In The Lonely Shore, There Is Society Where None Intrudes, By The Deep Sea, And Music In Its Roar; I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

What Want These Outlaws Conquerors Should Have But History's Purchased Page To Call Them Great?

There Is Music In All Things, If Men Had Ears.

O Fame! If I Ever Took Delight In Thy Praises, Twas Less For The Sake Of Thy High-sounding Phrases, Than To See The Bright Eyes Of The Dear One Discover The Thought That I Was Not Unworthy To Love Her.

Who Tracks The Steps Of Glory To The Grave?